


Solitude

by catsaremyboyfriend



Category: From Dusk Till Dawn (1996)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-04
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-04-12 21:58:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4496268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catsaremyboyfriend/pseuds/catsaremyboyfriend
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I FUCKING HATE KILGRAVE THAT CREEPY FUCKER GOD I HATE HIM also hogarth's ex wife grates on me but this SHOW this jessica jones show god it's fantastic but huge rape trigger! if you do watch it</p>
        </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Kate’s trying to decide what to do; she’s officially dead now, she thinks, or at least everyone who ever mattered to her is. She still. Still. Has blood in her hair, under her fingernails. She washed in the R.V., but it’s not enough. She’s pretty sure it’ll never be enough. 

She drives for miles, til her hands are clenched so tight around the wheel they’re white, the gas tank near empty. When the R.V. finally rumbles to a stop she sits there, silent, for a few seconds before she begins screaming, stumbles from the R.V. to curl in the sand, bloody hands fisted at her temples.

It leaves her throat raw, so when Seth drives by, stops, reverses to park near her she just looks up at him. She should hate him, she thinks, he’s the one who brought them here, who held her family at gunpoint, but. But. He’s lost his family, too. They’re both alone. They’re even. 

“Guess I shouldn’t just leave you here,” he says, squinting up at the sun. She can feel the money he gave her, tucked against her chest, warm from her skin. She takes the hand he offers, his palm gritty, lets him pull her to her feet. 

“You shouldn’t,” she agrees. 

He waits while she gathers clothes from the R.V., the only other thing she wants the picture of her family, half melted, that she took from her dad’s corpse. “Fuck,” she mutters, peering in the bathroom mirror, running a hand through her hair. She looks like death. And she would know, now. 

She pokes at the shadows under her eyes, watches Seth from the window. Unaware of her eyes on him, he whistles, more relaxed than she can pretend to be. She’ll learn. Hopefully. 

Grabbing her toothbrush, she bypasses Seth to hop in the passenger seat of his car. The leather’s buttery soft, too hot under her thighs. It’s fine. She’ll get used to it. She thinks she’s been running on adrenaline for days now, ever since she walked into a motel room where Seth and Richie waited. It’s one step at a time, she reminds herself.

Seth gets into the front seat, slips his sunglasses on, cool as anything. “I followed you,” he says, starting the engine. She waits. “From the bar. You’re just a kid, Kate. It wasn’t safe.”

She laughs, short, cause what the fuck? “Safe? What the hell does safe mean anymore?” She puts her bare feet on the dash, catches his wince when they leave prints. “Anyway, you’re here now.”

“Yeah. Guess I am a fucking bastard after all.” 

“Please. You’ve been a bastard from the start.” He looks over and smiles.  
*  
*  
They stop at dusk, rent a motel room at a place that looks like someone took several cans of beige paint to it. The cherry car sticks out like a sore thumb. Her mom used that saying a lot, whenever someone didn’t fit in quite right. 

Kate bites her lip as they step into their room. More beige, and one bed. The window looks out onto a dumpster, lid lifted, trash spilling out. Seth drops his bag on the floor, so she does the same. It’s too hot in here, sweat already beading at her upper lip, along the small of her back. 

She sits on one side of the bed, straight-backed. Control is important right now. Without it, she’ll crack apart again.

“Do you think all the vampires are dead?” she asks, eyes on Seth as he kicks his shoes off, puts his gun on the side table. 

“What, all the vampires in the world?” She nods. “Who fuckin’ cares?” 

“There could be millions,” she marvels. He shrugs, pulls a flask from his back pocket and drinks deep. 

“Go to sleep, Kate.” Just like that she realizes she’s bone-tired, swaying backwards before his mouth even closes. She doesn’t bother taking her shoes off.  
*  
Seth’s in bed with her when she wakes up, for no real reason, in the middle of the night. He’s pressed up close to her back, arm around her waist, nose brushing the nape of her neck. It sends shivers down her spine. It’s comforting, too, though, the easy rhythm of his breathing, warm skin on hers. Human. She sighs and falls back asleep.  
*  
*  
“I’ve done a lot of bad shit, but this might be the worst of it,” Seth mutters, coming out of the bathroom the next morning. Kate, toweling her hair dry after shampooing it three times, til the water stopped running red, turns to look at him. “I don’t regret much of it,” he continues, laying out on the bed, long legs sprawling. “But I regret this.”

“Because you lost your brother,” she finishes, thinking of Richie’s evil eyes.

“Because now I’ve got a conscience,” he corrects. “I’m not gonna be a human vampire anymore, sucking the world dry.” 

He sits up when she giggles. “What?” “You’re so dramatic, jeez.” 

Playful, he pushes at her shoulder, letting her sway with the touch. “Quiet, you.”  
*  
*  
They drive and drive; Kate doesn’t bother asking the destination. Instead, she makes smudges with sticky fingers on the windows, dozes on and off. Time passes in an interminable stretch of desert, Seth humming under his breath to whatever comes on the radio. 

It’s starting to feel like she’ll spend her whole life driving. It doesn’t seem so bad a future, she thinks. Long as someone is with her. She looks over at Seth and considers. 

 

“How many banks have you robbed?” she asks him, when the skies are dim again and they’ve stopped by the side of the road to watch the stars. He waits as she sets her beer down on the hood; this time, she made no complaints about being under 21. 

“A lot,” he says finally, when she makes an impatient noise.

“Why?” Because it’s his duty to be a good brother; when it came to Richie, he’d be either a serial killer or a bank robber, and at least with the second one Seth could pretend the deaths were accidental. 

“Cause I’m a bastard, remember?” he says instead, and she frowns, presses her knees together like the virgin she probably still is. She’s wearing shorts today, and a tank top that keeps slipping off her shoulders. “And it pays well. We’ll never have to worry about money again.”

“We?” she asks, raising an amused eyebrow, mood changing suddenly. “We’re a ‘we’ now?”

“Yeah. Who the hell else have we got?”  
*  
Considering, Kate takes a long sip of her beer. It’s foul, but she’ll take it. “I’ve got cousins, somewhere in Detroit.”

He glances at her, sharp, more emotion than he usually lets show. “ _What?_ ”

She giggles, nudges him with an elbow. “I’m kidding, relax.” 

“Not funny,” he grumbles, but he’s smiling.  
*  
*  
Surprisingly, Seth is the one who has nightmares. Wakes Kate up with his tossing, groaning out, “Richie!” til she shakes him awake. 

“Seth.” He rolls off the bed, looks up at her like he doesn’t know her. “Seth?” 

He turns away, rubbing a hand over his face, shoulders set. “Sorry. I guess going on the roadtrip from hell finally got to me.”

She slides off the bed to sit next to him, offering comfort. “You started it,” she teases, pulling her knees to her chest. 

“And I regret it every second,” he says, somber, reaching for a beer. 

She grabs his hand; her fingers are stark white against his tan. “No.” 

“Don’t you go tellin’ me what to do,” he murmurs, going very still. 

“You won’t be able to drink your troubles away, Seth. And I need you sober.” 

“You need me,” he repeats, turning his hand so it holds hers.

“I need a lot of things. Right now, I need you able to drive.” 

“You don’t need me for anything else?” he asks; teasing now, his eyes glittering in the dark. A wolf about to eat her up. She swallows. He squeezes her fingers, leans his head back. “Relax, Katie.” 

She doesn’t bother telling him that she hates being called Katie. She’s not the same person she was a few days ago. Maybe she is a Katie now. Katie sounds fun, Katie doesn’t sound like the kind of person who kills vampires. “Do you think you’ll be able to get back to sleep?” 

She yawns, shakes her head. “Let’s head out then.” He stands, untangling their hands. She flexes her fingers and follows.


	2. Jim Gilmore

“Where are we going?” Kate asks, thirty miles into their drive. He glances over at her; she’s curled into her seat, picking at her fingernails. It’s a tight fit, but she’s small. Her shorts have slipped up, exposing more pale thigh, the very edge of her underwear. It’s white cotton. He looks away.

“El Rey. I told you.” His shirt sticks to the back of his spine, Kate keeps wiping sweat from her face.

“Yeah, but…what is El Rey?” She’s squinting, shading her eyes from the sun. There’s already red bleeding across her cheeks, on her shoulders. They need to buy sunscreen. He’ll bet she looks cute with freckles. 

“It’s a place. It’s safe.” She rolls her eyes, turning back to the desert.  
*  
*  
They stop at a diner, Kate kicking her long legs on one of the stools. The sun brings out red in her hair. She sticks out like a sore thumb here, in the middle of Mexico. 

He’s been trying to teach her Spanish, little by little, remembering his mom teaching him before Richie was born. Richie never looked like him, he was white boy through and through. They’re both fluent in Spanish, though. Well. Richie _was_ fluent.

Shaking himself, he opens the door, joins Kate at the counter. She’s stirring coffee, black, not what he would expect from her. “ _Azucar_?” he says from behind her, and she turns, smiling.

“Even I know that means sugar, Seth.” He shrugs, sits, their shoulders bumping companionably. “And no. I take it black.” She's stirring more slowly, eyes cast down. “Dad liked it the same way. Not, not Scott, though. He preferred tea.” Her hands are trembling, barely noticeable. She’s been quick to learn how to hide emotions. He’s not sure that’s a good thing.

“Richie did meth, sometimes, on jobs. If he needed to stay awake.” 

“ _Jeez_.” They order omelets, Kate gets ham with hers. She eats a lot of meat. He’s taken his first bite when she mumbles, “Don’t you have any _normal_ stories?” 

Seth raises an eyebrow. “What?” 

“You know, normal family things. Not ‘My brother did meth before we robbed banks’ stories.”

He glances around, nervous on instinct, but there’s no one close enough to hear. “ _Kate_ ,” he hisses anyway, mildly annoyed, trying to think of something she’ll find normal.

Mostly he remembers step-fathers who hit him, or, worse, who hit _Richie_ , and moving every year, and being small and angry while Richie was big and intense. The majority of his childhood, the majority of his _life_ , is tangled around Richie’s memory like a vine. It must be taking him too long to answer, because Kate’s stopped eating, lacing her fingers in his.

“Seth?” He tugs his hand away; held hands are for the dark. She frowns, about to speak again.

“I wanted to be a pro-skateboarder, when I was a teenager. I stole a board from a neighbor, practiced every day,” he interrupts, blurting the first thing that comes to mind. 

Kate taps her fork against her bottom lip, distracting. “Hm. That’ll do.”  
*  
They stop when it gets dark again, when Seth is yawning, swerving a little. “I could drive,” Kate offers, though she’s yawning herself. 

“Hell fuckin’ no,” he mutters, pulling over. There’s not a building in sight. “Should’ve slept more last night. Sorry.” 

She tips her head back, staring at the stars, brighter out here then she’s ever seen them. Makes some of this worth it. Her butt hurts from sitting in this damn seat all day. She smells like diner and sweat. “You need to sleep. _We_ need to sleep.” 

“Where, Kate?” he snaps, turning the car off. It’s cool out, at night, the breeze pleasant on her face. She remembers legends of monsters crawling the desert, but doesn’t shiver. She’s faced her own monsters already, she can fight what comes next. 

“Seth.” 

He turns to her, making a face she’d describe as pouty if she was feeling unkind. “Yes?” 

“We’ll sleep here,” she decides, already climbing into the back, where the seats are deeper. Seth turns to watch as she unhooks her bra, slides it from under her shirt, kicks her shoes off. “Come on. There’s room enough for two,” she tells him. 

“You really want me to join you?” he husks, eyes gone heavy. 

“Sure,” she responds; she’s not actually positive she could sleep without him, by now. It seems he has a tendency to leave marks on people.

“Alright.” He heaves himself over the seat to join her, curls himself around her body. The seat is just big enough for both of them. This close, she can smell the citrus of the shampoo they picked up a ways back, smells coffee and the dirt of sweat.  
His breath is hot in her hair, already evening out. “Night, Kate.”

“Good night.”  
*  
Seth jolts awake when a truck roars by, blaring something loud and catchy. The sun is rising. Kate hasn’t even moved, still tucked into the curve of his body, soft. There are no hard angles on her. There will be. The thought is kind of upsetting. 

He untangles himself from her, careful, even as she grabs at his shirt and mumbles nonsense. “Shh, sweetheart,” he murmurs, putting her hands back at her sides. “Shh, Katie, go back to sleep.” She turns over as he gets into the front seat, starts the car. They still have many miles to go.  
*  
Kate wakes up at ten, popping her head up. The hair on the back of Seth’s neck is starting to curl, caught up in the humidity. They’re parked, Seth’s arm over the back of the seat, fingers tapping. 

She looks around, sees they’re at a McDonalds, which is kind of impressive this deep in Mexico. America really does spread everywhere, like cancer. “Hey,” she says, sitting up, blinking sleep from her eyes. 

“Hola.” He looks over his shoulder at her; the bags under his eyes are horrendous. “There’s a motel in town. We can shower.” 

“And nap,” she slips in, ignoring his frown. She’s all he’s got now, and she can tell Seth is possessive. He won’t leave no matter how pissed he gets.

“We don’t have time…” he starts.

“All we’ve got is time, Seth.” 

His shoulders go loose at her touch. “Yeah. Okay.” 

She grins, victorious, and pulls her shoes on. “So, how does an Egg McMuffin sound for breakfast?” He groans but follows her in.


	3. Jessica

It’s hot. It’s always hot, Kate knows, but it seems worse today. Seth’s taken off his jacket, shirtsleeves rolled up, beads of sweat at his temples. 

They’re at a motel; they’re always at a motel, endless and starting to blur, or they’re driving. Seth hasn’t been sleeping well lately. He hasn’t said anything, but she knows he paces, that he goes out and sits in the dark. Maybe that’s normal for him. She doesn’t know him, not really. Not his habits, anyway. 

Mildly unsettled, she thumps her pillow, rolls over, surprised to see Seth facing her with his eyes open. “Hey,” he whispers, curling a hand around her waist, thumb stroking her hipbone. She’s wearing a t-shirt, white, that might be his. They share most things now; clothes, a bed, personal space. 

“It’s hot, Seth.” He’s not looking at her face, eyes dipped low to her collarbones, her neck. She pulls the sheet up, feet curling to find cooler fabric.

“I know, sweetheart.” She yawns widely. They didn’t drive very far today, got distracted by fruit stands and smiling vendors. There’s a basket of papayas in the backseat now. 

“What day is it?” 

Time doesn’t matter anymore, faded to the back of her head. “Sunday.” Sunday. She hasn’t been to church in weeks. She’s not sure she believes in God anymore. She doesn’t think so. 

“Oh.”

He takes his hand off her hip, thin line appearing between his brows. “Is this a religion thing? Do you want. Um. To go to church?” 

He moves closer, tangling their legs, too hot under sheets but she welcomes the feel of him anyway, his skin as familiar as her own by now. His breath is on her face, still minty, teeth white in the dark. “No.” She takes his hand, allowed at night; Seth has strange rules. She’s learning. “Can we sleep in tomorrow?”

She thinks of papayas, sticky juice dripping down her fingers. Seth rolls to his back, hands under his head. “Yeah. F’course. I could use the sleep.”   
++++++++++++++++++++=  
The radio is finicky, spitting static that hurts her ears. She’s curled miserably in the passenger seat, wind picking up wisps of hair, Seth’s hand on her knee. She hurts. Nothing more serious than cramps; she went to shower this morning, found thick blood dripping down her thighs. 

So much has changed since her last period, she’d almost forgotten about it. She wishes, now, that she packed painkillers. Seth keeps glancing over, clearly at a loss, so obviously worried that she smiles through the pain. 

“I’m not dying, Seth.” 

His mouth twists up, amused; he squeezes her knee. “I know how women work, Kate. I just don’t like seeing you in pain.” Pleased, she blushes, which comes easier than she’d like around him. His mouth quirks higher. “Next motel in ten hours.”

She nods and presses her forehead to the headrest, sticky against her hot skin. Cold would be a relief right now; she thinks longingly of ice at the motel. The road rumbles on.

 

The new motel is better than most-small, but family owned and everything’s clean. The beds are covered in handmade quilts that smell strongly of detergent. The owners speak Spanish and something else, an indigenous language he doesn’t understand. They chatter rapidly back and forth, switching languages easily, fond of each other. 

The father is a medium sized man with a large mustache, clearly proud of his three sons who scurry about like mice, barking orders at each other. An old woman looks on, her skin more wrinkles than anything else, grinning toothlessly at her grandsons. 

Seth misses family like an ache. Or, he misses what family was to him; his mother’s softly whispered Spanish, Richie’s clever fingers and thin smirk. Seth’s pretty sure his definition of family differs wildly from anyone else’s. 

He swings the room key around his finger as he heads back to Kate, who’s frowning painfully, fingers digging into her stomach. “You alright, sweetheart?” Pet names come easily with her; she’s delicate, still. 

“Peachy,” she snaps back, but she’s smiling, takes his hand to help her out the car. She’s wearing a summer dress today, a little small on her, straps digging into her shoulder. He keeps getting glimpses of the skin high on her thigh, pale and soft. He tries not to notice.

 

Kate falls onto the bed soon as possible, on her back. He takes her ankle in one hand, not really thinking about it, watches her toes flex. Her ankles are solid and strong; most of her is. He keeps thinking of her as delicate, but she’s handling this trip well, took to killing vampires and losing her family well. 

“I can sleep now?” she murmurs, already slipping away. Her legs are spread, just a little. He gets a view of pale yellow fabric, the underwear he saw her pick out this morning. There are flowers on it, he knows, tiny blue daisies. He looks away. 

“Yeah, sweetheart. You can sleep.” Her eyes slip shut within seconds, soft snores he’s so used to now. He watches her for a moment before heading to the bathroom.

 

Kate wakes from dreams of blood, oceans of it, blood soaked deep into her skin til she squelches. It’s still day outside; light streams through the windows. Seth’s not here, she can tell instinctively. He’s probably eating. Kate thought she liked Mexican food before she came here; she knows now that it was but a poor imitation. She hopes there’s paella.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I FUCKING HATE KILGRAVE THAT CREEPY FUCKER GOD I HATE HIM also hogarth's ex wife grates on me but this SHOW this jessica jones show god it's fantastic but huge rape trigger! if you do watch it


	4. Thompkins

After the fifth motel with only one bed Kate says something. Seth hesitates, about to drop his bag on the floor like he always does, and it’s strange to her that she knows his habits. “Jesus Christ. Is this gonna be a problem, Kate? Is this a virgin thing?”

She flushes to her hairline, annoyed, even if the virgin thing is true. He’s such an asshole sometimes. “ _No_. I was just _wondering_.”

Even she can tell how much she sounds like a teenager, and he laughs. “Alright. Sorry to cast doubts and _aspersions_ on your character, Katie.”

She starts laughing too, drawn in by his charm, the way his mouth sounds around words. “You’re such a weirdo, Seth.”  
+  
Later, she’s wearing one of Seth’s shirts, ran out of laundry yesterday. It goes down past her butt, swishing, the fabric rougher then she’s used to. It’s a button up, blue. Her favorite color. She sits on the bed, smoothing the shirt over her thighs. 

Seth is in the next room, brushing his teeth; she’s kind of annoyed he’s even attractive doing that. His eyes are on her, dark, not like he’s ever looked at her before. “Go to sleep, Katie. Tomorrow we’ll get something fancy to eat.” 

“Golly Gee Willikers, Mr. Gecko, you sure know how to treat a girl right.”

“Smart mouth on you, Katie,” he answers; she thinks he might be a little drunk from when he went out earlier. There’s a six pack of shitty beer near the armchair that he brought back.

He finishes washing up and slouches into the chair, still watching her, taking sips from his drink. He always sits with his legs open, distracting. The beer dangles from his fingertips. She watches it thump to the carpet, bubbling over. “Run out of clothes, sugar?” he asks, nodding at her shirt. He’s slurring slightly. 

“You’re drunk, Seth.” 

“Mm. Maybe a little. I can still take care of you just fine.” She equally loves and hates it when Seth does this, turns on the sex appeal like it’s easy but does nothing. 

She presses her thighs together, frustrated, wishing for some alone time. It’s not like Seth’s going to do anything. He never does, just teases her til she’s flushed and wanting she doesn’t know what. “ _Seth_ ,” she whines, sick of avoidance. “Seth, come _on_.”

He just smirks, the smug jerk, gets up and walks over to her. She’s holding her breath, not really sure why. He takes her face in one hand, thumb along her jaw. Her lips part.

“Honey,” he says lowly, interested. She looks up at him, a little shy. It’s alright. Seth won’t say anything. 

His fingers have ink on them; he fiddles with pens all the time, distracting himself from the cigarettes she’s trying to make him quit. “Did you get pen on me?” 

“Nah, Katie. I haven’t marked you up. Yet.” He darts in quick to kiss her, tasting of cheap beer. There’s a brief moment where they both panic before she jolts forward, grabbing the front of his shirt, wrapping her legs around his waist. His jeans are rough on her skin, the button pressing in personal. He’s quick to slide them off, rubbing up hard, his hands moving to her waist to grip tight. “Fucking Christ, Katie. You’ve soaked right through,” he hisses, biting hard on her bottom lip. 

“Mhm,” she groans, trying to get him closer, not really positive what she’s doing but sure it’ll feel good. “C’mon, Seth, c’mon, get your hands on me.” He mutters something in Spanish that sounds filthy and takes her shirt off.  
+  
The next morning Seth sits up and Kate mumbles something, on her stomach with the blankets at her waist. He can see bruises on her hips where his hands were, knows she’s probably still a little slick from him. _Jesus_.

“Honey,” he whispers, touching her soft skin, the bow of her lax mouth. The things he’s going to do to her, he almost feels guilty. She turns over, grinning up at him, utterly shameless. His eyes instantly drop to her chest. “Morning.” She reaches for him without hesitation. Seth is definitely going to hell. He doesn’t mind.  
END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kay so that's it end of story also i'm watching gotham and it's really good and i like victor z which is amazeballs cause i hate him in everything else

**Author's Note:**

> so like i really liked from dusk til dawn? when i started writing this i had only watched the movie so the only thing inspired by the tv show is the way richie seth and kate look. it's weird to be writing straight people who even does that anymore? anyway i've been watching the tv show in between my near constant xfiles binging (is that how you spell it? (i have no idea what i'll do when i'm finished with xfiles i've been watching it for months maybe i'll finish fma: brotherhood? don't expect fanfiction for either, soz)) did i already say it's weird to be writing straight people? when was the last time i even did that i think it's been a while


End file.
